Anne Brontë

(7 January 1820 – 28 May 1849 / Thornton, West Riding of Yorkshire, England)

Home - Poem by Anne Brontë

How brightly glistening in the sun
The woodland ivy plays!
While yonder beeches from their barks
Reflect his silver rays.
That sun surveys a lovely scene
From softly smiling skies;
And wildly through unnumbered trees
The wind of winter sighs:

Now loud, it thunders o'er my head,
And now in distance dies.
But give me back my barren hills
Where colder breezes rise;

Where scarce the scattered, stunted trees
Can yield an answering swell,
But where a wilderness of heath
Returns the sound as well.

For yonder garden, fair and wide,
With groves of evergreen,
Long winding walks, and borders trim,
And velvet lawns between;

Restore to me that little spot,
With grey walls compassed round,
Where knotted grass neglected lies,
And weeds usurp the ground.

Though all around this mansion high
Invites the foot to roam,
And though its halls are fair within --
Oh, give me back my HOME!


Comments about Home by Anne Brontë

  • (2/24/2016 11:14:00 AM)

    yes Oh give me back my home! ! ! (Report) Reply

    2 person liked.
    2 person did not like.
  • Susan Williams (2/2/2016 10:04:00 PM)

    Beautiful, isn't it? We all have our images of home, both earthly and eternal. I must say her home is very tantalizing (Report) Reply

  • (1/19/2016 8:39:00 PM)

    - - - - Very well written- - - - (Report) Reply

  • (12/6/2015 5:25:00 AM)

    home is where loves room (Report) Reply

  • Hasan Khan (8/19/2015 9:54:00 AM)

    really good poem anne brronte
    is it new?
    (Report) Reply

Read all 5 comments »

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Read poems about / on: silver, winter, sun, wind, home, tree, rose, sky, smile

Poem Submitted: Tuesday, December 31, 2002

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